Sexual assault is not just a statistic

Sexual+assault+is+not+just+a+statistic

Students participate in the annual walk to “Take Back the Night.” File Photo.

According to an email UND sent out late last week, one in four women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. According to the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network, 44% of victims are under 18. RAINN also says 97% of rapists will never spend a day in jail.

I share this story. My story is different, but I am a survivor as well. There is never just one story, but as the Clothesline Project comes to an end and Domestic Violence Awareness month begins to wrap up, it’s easy to go back to forgetting the faceless, red-paper figures that haunt campus’ walls, telling their stories. It becomes so easy to think that you are alone as a survivor, current victim or a friend.

I am telling my story to put a face on rape. I don’t want you to forget what I say because my story is repeated day after day, after day, no matter the month. I am adding my voice to the growing cry for change and awareness.

Almost a year ago to the day, I was finally able to call what I experienced “rape.” Before that, I couldn’t really put into words what was done to me. Molestation didn’t fit, neither did assault. I had mentally blocked myself from calling it “rape” because I didn’t want to believe that was what had happened to me.

When I was young, I had a daycare provider that we’ll call Harvey (not his real name). He liked to tickle the kids and was very playful with all of us. Occasionally, he’d take pictures of us (which, as children, we loved).

Every now and then, Harvey would take me into another room (often during snack time, which is why I dislike the smell of apple juice and graham crackers to this day). Sometimes he tied me up, sometimes he held me down.

At first, I would struggle, but as each session went on, I learned that struggling was useless. I was too small to fight back, and he threatened to kill my parents if I ever told (as an only child, this was especially scarring). Occasionally there was a camera or a video recorder. He was smart — he knew how not to leave too many bruises in suspicious places and how hide the other things he did to my body.

One day, my mother found the bruises while drying me off from a bath. My parents took me to the ER. The evidence doctors found on my body after an especially violent “session” confirmed sexual abuse but not who had done it. According to the state laws at the time, I was too young to testify in court. I couldn’t be trusted as a witness. I was used to Harvey covering my mouth so no one could hear my screams. I didn’t expect my mouth to be covered by the system that was supposed to be helping me.

This is why Harvey never went to court. He never spent a day in jail. I never saw justice. My parents pulled me from the daycare and Harvey still had his job. I looked into the daycare a week ago and Harvey wasn’t working with them any more, though the person who ran the daycare was still the same.

Almost two decades later, I still wake up fighting him. I still have nightmares about him finding out I told and coming to kill my parents. I can still feel his breath on my face. I still worry about what happened to the videos and pictures he took. There wasn’t much internet porn in the early 90’s, but who knows what he did with them as the years went on.

This is not a unique story. As shown by the stats given at the beginning (of which every single one fits my story), there are far too many victims to comprehend.

It is time for us to take back our voices. We did nothing wrong. We have nothing to be ashamed of. And worse, our silence gives them power. It is time to be silent no more and to not relent with pushing for change. I worried at first about talking too much about these kinds of issues, but no more. We cannot be loud enough when it comes for calling for an end to these numbers, calling for the end of not believing victims, calling for an end to a culture that protects the rapist more than the victim. It is time for change, and we will not be silenced.

Kjerstine Trooien is a staff writer for The Dakota Student. She can be reached at [email protected].